Monday, November 18, 2013

Today I want to introduce Crystal Collier's debut novel, Moonless. We're going to play the Truth or Lie game, and you have a chance to win her book!

Alexia’s nightmares become reality: a dead baron, red-eyed wraiths, and forbidden love with a man hunted by these creatures. After an attack close to home, Alexia realizes she cannot keep one foot in her old life and one in this new world. To protect her family she must either be sold into a loveless marriage, or escape with her beloved and risk becoming one of the Soulless.

MOONLESS is Jane Eyre meets Supernatural.

"MOONLESS is powerful, compelling, and packed with soul." --Bethany Kaczmarek, editor at A Little Red, Inc.

"I fell head
over heels for the characters. The story itself was magnificent and the way
Crystal writes is beyond that." --TC Mckee, acquiring editor at BookFish Books

"The mystery is dense and pulsating... Power-packed action, heart stopping mystery, unpredictable twists and turns..." --Review on I Am a Reader Not a Writer

Crystal gave me two truths and one lie to test your "lie detector" skills. Can you figure out the lie? Those who do will be entered in a random drawing to win one of three ebooks of MOONLESS. How cool is that? You have until November 30, at 11:59 p.m. to guess--and be sure to come back for the answer and winner announcement on FILL IN YOUR DATE--ANY DAY AFTER DECEMBER 3!

TRUTH OR LIE

1. Where some kids had lemonade stands, young Crystal sold bin
candies.

2. As a kid, she led a bike gang of 23 children in her
cul-de-sac.

3. Through middle school she ran track, even with exercise induced
asthma.

Okay human lie detectors, which is the lie? Enter your guess below!

Crystal Collier, author of MOONLESS, is a former composer/writer for Black Diamond Productions. She can be found practicing her brother-induced ninja skills while teaching children or madly typing about fantastic and impossible creatures. She has lived from coast to coast and now calls Florida home with her creative husband, three littles, and “friend” (a.k.a. the zombie locked in her closet). Secretly, she dreams of world domination and a bottomless supply of cheese. You can find her on her blog and Facebook, or follow her on Twitter.

2.There will be no throwing
of sticks or stones or anything resembling fecal matter.

3.Spitting upon our
worthy guests or other citizens is strictly forbidden.

4.Commenters art awarded
points based on ye best olde English.

5.An bribe ebook
or $5 Amazon gift card will be bequeathed by each prisoner.

6.A $25 Amazon gift card
will be awarded at the end of the week by Sheriff Gwen.

7. HENCE, ye must
comment to win!

Let the trials begin!

*Sheriff Gwen rolls
out scroll to read the charge* Upon a recent tip from a certain ghostie,
erm, I mean steadfast citizen of this
most worthy realmdom, I did receive reliable information about David Powers King, late of Mountain
West, now of Blogtown in the land of Realms, and most recently a guest of ye
olde Realms Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Mistress Mary Pax, and
overseen by me, Gwen, the honorable Sheriff of Realms. *runs out of breath and sucks in a lungful of air before continuing*

Twas upon the first day (or thereabouts) in the month of
November, in the year of our Lord, two thousand and thirteen, said prisoner, *sheriff motions toward David struggling in the
stocks* Sir DPK, did in fact harbor, or cause the harbor of a spirit child.
*Said child stands grinning next to a
Christmas tree and winks at Sheriff Gwen before thumbing his nose at David*.
Maverick, the spirit child, twas meant to be safe in Heaven at Christmastime,
but instead, was forced betwixt the pages of The
Spirit of Christmas, a very special anthology, indeed, and tucked
neatly into the story called Brother
Christmas, by none other than David.
Powers. King.

*hisses from the crowd*

Here is my evidence:

“I bolted from my spot on the floor,
ran past the TV room, and headed down the stairs to my quiet, basement
bedroom—my own little man cave. I switched the lights on and plopped face-first
onto my bed, breathing shallowly. Finally, the display of sob stories was over.
A few seconds later, the door shut on its own. A boy stood in my room. He
looked about my age, and he was an exact match of the boy in that picture
upstairs.

“How’d it go? The same and sappy as
usual?” he asked.

I nodded at Maverick, the ghost of my
brother.”

How plead ye, Sir David?

Thou hast me all wrong, Gwen Milady!
Indeed, I kept the ghost of young Maverick from the other side for a time, but
when struggling as I did for a story set around Christmas, a story I both
volunteered to write for a worthy cause and had no idea what it would be about,
this dead lad graced mine idea bank and I had to include him. By all means, if
it will but help my defense, I sent him on his merry afterlife upon its conclusion.
What discomforts he endured I pray shall be forgiven by my attempt to include a
story young readers would enjoy in this yuletide
anthology, an anthology solely dedicated to The Office of
Letters of Light, along with all monies collected through sales
and donations, by which they normally operate. Now, if thou would be so kind as
to let me out of this stockade and have my charges dropped and good name
restored, I could lend thee a copy—at no charge …?

To check out the stupendous Realms
Faire Giveaways, go HERE.
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for participating in this fun event - check them out HERE.

Ye Olde Realms Trial Rules:

1.Prithee, keep
order at all times.

2.There will be no throwing
of sticks or stones or anything resembling fecal matter.

3.Spitting upon our
worthy guests or other citizens is strictly forbidden.

4.Commenters art awarded
points based on ye best olde English.

5.An bribe ebook
or $5 Amazon gift card will be bequeathed by each prisoner.

6.A $25 Amazon gift card
will be awarded at the end of the week by Sheriff Gwen.

7. HENCE, ye must
comment to win!

Let the trials begin!

*Sheriff Gwen rolls
out scroll to read the charge* On trial today is Sir Stephen Tremp, late of
Mission Viejo, now of Blogtown in the land of Realms, and most recently a guest
of ye olde Realms Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Mistress Mary
Pax, and overseen by me, Gwen, the honorable Sheriff of Realms. *runs out of breath and sucks in a lungful
of air before continuing*

What ye are about to
hear tis mayhaps the scariest crime of all. But tis true, every word, straight
from the horse’s mouth. Sir Stephen Tremp
is accused of opening Pandora’s Box through the pages of his novel, Escalation,
the final book of his Breakthrough
trilogy! *a mysterious evil stranger,
dressed in black and sporting a backpack slinks through the crowd. His form
flickers, as if he’s about to disappear*

Here is my burden of proof. Read, if ye’re able:

In Escalation, the final installment to
Stephen Tremp’s Breakthrough Trilogy,
a seemingly innocent discovery in Einstein-Rosen Bridges, or wormholes, becomes
a Pandora’s Box—opening doors to other unexpected and unpredictable realities
such as parallel universes, time/space travel, and an evil hitchhiker from
another dimension unleashed upon our unsuspecting world…

And then this…

These beings can, at will
if they have the authority, convert themselves into mass and manifest in our
world. Then, when their work is done, convert back to energy, disappear, and
move with ease back into their dimensions.

And straight from the pages of Escalation:

“According
to E=MC2, energy and mass are the same thing. Mass and energy can be converted
back and forth into each other. Energy into mass. Then mass back into energy.
These beings could exist as hyperbeings of pure energy in an additional
dimension, then transform into mass right in front of our eyes in our
space-time. Then, they convert back into energy and return into their extra
spatial dimension.”

Ye have read it thyself. Mayhaps ye witnessethed this evil
hitchhiker. Tis most troublesome that the door to our dimension is now open to
any Craze, Captain Talos or Jix who cares to enter. Arm thyselves, I say!

How plead ye, Sir Stephen?

I
appeal to the good citizens of Realm. Hear me out. One doesn’t need to be a spiritual
person or a learned man of science to believe in the convergence of the
spiritual world, the metaphysical world, and our world. Most civilizations from
the dawn of mankind have believed there is a spiritual world that is the more
reality-based realm than our physical one. They were merely trying to explain
the universe around them, and their place in it the best they could. And they
would live their lives in preparation to spend eternity as a spiritual being,
for better or worse.

Very
simply, as a man of science scientist and faith, I have to conclude certain
things using the scientific method. But, under other circumstances, I have to
believe there are some things that cannot be explained in a laboratory, such as
love, truth, and justice.

We
do not have any idea what is really out there, but there is no reason to
believe we are the only intelligent beings in the universe. That would be
arrogant and asinine. Nor would there be reason to believe whatever else is out
there would have to obey the same laws of the universe. Even the Bible says a
day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are as a day to God.
Although we may experience almost instantaneous travel through a wormhole, time
may not behave at all like we think it should within the wormhole.

So
I appeal to the good citizens of Realm, understand there is at least the
realistic possibility, on a spiritual and a scientific basis, for wormholes and
hyperbeings that exists and supersede our current understanding of the
space-time continuum of height, length, width, and time.

2.There will be no throwing
of sticks or stones or anything resembling fecal matter.

3.Spitting upon our
worthy guests or other citizens is strictly forbidden.

4.Commenters art awarded
points based on ye best olde English.

5.An bribe ebook
or $5 Amazon gift card will be bequeathed by each prisoner.

6.A $25 Amazon gift card
will be awarded at the end of the week by Sheriff Gwen.

7. HENCE, ye must
comment to win!

Let the trials begin!

*Sheriff Gwen rolls
out scroll to read the charge* Upon a recent tip from a certain toad
advocate, erm, I mean steadfast citizen
of this most worthy realmdom, I did receive reliable information about Jeff Beesler, late of Washington
state, now of Blogtown in the land of Realms, and most recently a guest of ye
olde Realms Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Mistress Mary Pax, and
overseen by me, Gwen, the honorable Sheriff of Realms. *runs out of breath and sucks in a lungful of air before continuing*

*ahem* As stated, it
has come to my attention one Jeffrey Beesler did indeed commit toad abuse upon
the publishing of his novel, Spell of
Entrapment. A lowly, wretched creature, given into his care, and so-named
Halscrad, was forced to eat atrocious concoctions betwixt the pages of said
book.

Should you dare to visiteth the crime scene in the far off
land of Amazonian cyberspace, go HERE,
but beware the troll at the gate, a bribe toll may be extracted!

Aye, but the burden of proof lies with me, so anon to the
evidence, painfully gathered from the crime scene:

“Going home
seemed the only viable option. At least there she could confide in her one true
friend, her toad. By now Halscrad had probably gone through the last of the
wingless fly paste she had made for him before her departure. At the very least
it had been a nice enough day to leave the window open. This would’ve let some
wayward bugs flutter into her hovel, straight to their doom.”

But Halscrad did fight back, as
evidenced below:

“Exhausted
by the day’s excitement, along with finding no hint of Halscrad, Embekah
dragged her feet toward her bedchamber. She almost bowed under the power of
sleepiness but reached her cot safely.

Only when
Embekah had unraveled the covers of her neatly-made bed, only when her eyelids
drooped almost entirely shut, did her cheek brush against a slimy lump. Filling
the air with a squeal, she threw her covers off. Heart racing, she zoomed to
the door before catching her senses again.

Blasted toad!”

How plead ye, Sir Jeffrey?

How do I plead toward this
fraudulent charge of toad abuse? Innocent, of course! Thou hast not noted in
the very section of thy evidence that the window was left open for bugs to
enter and feed Halscrad. Had thou continued further in thy investigation, thou
wouldst have come upon the Indoor Forest, a piece of woodland magically
contained in a single room of Lady Embekah Mare’s most humble abode. Also, had
thou continued on to Chapter 9 of the tome, on day 54 of the Year of the Toad,
thou wouldst have seen Halscrad able to pass through the Spell of Entrapment
without the slightest trouble. And did thou see how the calendar is marked Year
of the Toad? I highly doubt that such an honor would have been bestowed upon
the toad were I truly guilty of your charge.

Also, Halscrad is quite fond of
the taste of wingless fly paste. Thy charge is groundless and will likely be
dismissed in the court of public opinion.

2.There will be no throwing
of sticks or stones or anything resembling fecal matter.

3.Spitting upon our
worthy guests or other citizens is strictly forbidden.

4.Commenters art awarded
points based on ye best olde English.

5.An bribe ebook
or $5 Amazon gift card will be bequeathed by each prisoner.

6.A $25 Amazon gift card
will be awarded at the end of the week by Sheriff Gwen.

7. HENCE, ye must
comment to win!

Let the trials begin!

*Sheriff Gwen rolls
out scroll to read the charge* Upon a recent tip from a certain monster,
erm, I mean steadfast citizen of this
most worthy realmdom, I did receive reliable information about EJ Wesley, late of
Oklahoma and California, now of Blogtown in the land of Realms, and most
recently a guest of ye olde Realms Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness,
Mistress Mary Pax, and overseen by me, Gwen, the honorable Sheriff of Realms. *runs out of breath and sucks in a lungful
of air before continuing*

Twas upon the eighth day in the month of April, in the year
of our Lord, two thousand and thirteen, said prisoner, *sheriff motions toward EJ struggling in the stocks* Sir EJ, did in
fact abuse, or cause the abuse of an eighteen foot troll. Mr. Troll *standing one-armed and with a patch over
one eye at the edge of the crowd looking smug*was merely in search of a means to break his
fast, when accosted by Jenny the monster hunter, betwixt the pages of Dark
Prelude, Book III ofthe Moonsongs series.

Tis a most monstrous
act to be sure, but the evidence is clear. Knights and ladies of Realms, I
present my evidence:

“When I’d closed within a few feet, I doubled my grip on the
hatchet. Letting out a shrill scream, I leapt into the air and buried the ax
into the shaggy arm nearest me.”

“The limb thudded to the ground next to Marshal, who’d been
unceremoniously dropped. I spun around, trying to locate my opponent. The troll
swung at me with his intact arm. I dodged just enough to deflect some of the
blow, but it was still powerful enough to send me flying into the creek bank
with a thump.”

AND THEN,

“The flare hissed to life. I lunged forward and thrust it
into the troll’s face, instantly melting the tufts of white hair hanging from
his cheeks and brow. He flailed backwards, waiving his massive arm in broad,
defensive swipes, which I ducked. After stumbling several times, he turned
toward the bridge, and began walking toward the shelter in an awkward,
zigzagging march.”

“I’ve blinded him.”

How plead ye, Sir EJ?

E.J.: I declare myself innocent on all
accounts, Sheriff Gwen! Clearly Mr. Troll has used his injuries to play on the
sympathies of this court, and if so allowed to continue, will make a mockery of
all that is good and just in this fair land.

I shall call MY witness now, one Jenny
Moonsong. Her account of these events will surely clear my name!

Jenny: Can we hurry this up? I can’t
even get a decent 4G signal out here.

E.J.: *chuckles nervously* Jenny, be respectful. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in a
bit of a bind here. They seem to think we were unduly cruel to the troll fella
over there.

Jenny: *scowls at troll* That hairball on steroids tried to eat my best friend
Marshal and me! Do I really need to justify taking my tomahawk to him?

E.J.: *sighs* If I’m going to get out of this stockade—and write YOU into
another story—then yes.

Jenny: Fine. But don’t expect me to
shed any tears on his ugly behalf … if I had it my way, I’d turn ol’ Cyclops’
hide into some sweet new seat covers for my 4x4 pickup.

Troll: *roars angrily*

Jenny: *smirks* Still touchy about the flare to the eye, I see? *snorts* Get it, E.J.? “I see.”

E.J.: Jenny, just get on with the
defense. My legs are cramping and I think I’m getting splinters in my knees.

Jenny: For all the crap they put
characters through, authors can be real pansies. You know that?

E.J.: There’s a delete button on my
keyboard. It works great. Did you know that?

Jenny: That’s low. Okay, here’s how it
REALLY went down with shaggy. My buddy Marshal’s father went missing on pretty
much the coldest day West Texas has ever seen—I’m talking sleet, snow, and a
wind chill that could freeze the snowballs off of Frosty.

E.J.: *groans*
I’m never getting out of this…

Jenny: Anyway, we went to look for
Marshal’s dad and we found 300 lbs of fur, stink, and bad attitude instead.
That troll killed, and at least partially digested, several innocent people
before E.J. let me put a stop to it. Y’all should be thanking him, and be
grateful that I forced Mr. Troll to eat left-handed from now on.

E.J.: See! I’m a public servant. I only
ever wanted to protect the fine folks of Center Pointe, Texas—and you. That
troll is the real menace!

2.There will be no throwing
of sticks or stones or anything resembling fecal matter.

3.Spitting upon our
worthy guests or other citizens is strictly forbidden.

4.Commenters art awarded
points based on ye best olde English.

5.An bribe ebook
or $5 Amazon gift card will be bequeathed by each prisoner.

6.A $25 Amazon gift card
will be awarded at the end of the week by Sheriff Gwen.

7. HENCE, ye must
comment to win!

Let the trials begin!

*Sheriff Gwen rolls
out scroll to read the charge* Upon a recent tip from a certain dragon
hunter, erm, I mean steadfast citizen
of this most worthy realmdom, I did receive reliable information about Father
Dragon, late of Mexico, now of Blogtown in the land of Realms, and most recently
a guest of ye olde Realms Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Mistress
Mary Pax, and overseen by me, Gwen, the honorable Sheriff of Realms. *runs out of breath and sucks in a lungful
of air before continuing*

Twas upon the 2nd day of October, Father Dragon was
witnessed thinking most deeply when he inscribed upon his cave wall, The Never Ending Battle For Greatness.
Tis blasphemous, I say! Father Dragon admitted that two beings existed within
his head (a charge for another day) when he spoke of the fight betwixt the two
of them; Spirit and Mind.

I charge Father Dragon with attempting to incite a riot in
Realmdom betwixt Spirit and Mind, which if successful, wouldst spread
throughout the blogoverse like wildfire!

Here is my evidence, taken word for word from the crime
scene, Father Dragon’s own talons and lair:

“The more I meditate about life, the more I
realize there is a permanent battle between my brain and my spirit. My spirit
speaks of greatness and miracles and endless possibilities. My brain speaks of
past wounds, fears, flaws and limitations. My spirit compels me to aim for the
sky, my brain plots to chain me to the ground. They fight over the
control of my actions and I pay close attention to this war. Today, I share my
findings with you.”

“"It's all over. We're so very screwed.
Just drop and die!" My brain would scream.
My spirit, however, says different. "There is a reason for this and it is
NOT for you to dig your own grave. Don't hide. Face it! Fight it! Win!"”

*Ahem* I invite ye
to visiteth the crime
scene where you mighteth see for thyself, that Father Dragon did indeed
encourage citizens of this fair land to engage in raucous commentary on his
cave wall.

How plead ye, Father
Dragon?

While
my brain says I’m innocent, my spirit says I’m guilty as charged. I mean, it is
true that my words encourage the confrontation between brain and spirit but before
you cut my head with an Oreo cookie, hear me out. First, let’s make clear that
brain and mind are not synonymous. Brain is the muscle inside our skull, mind
is a creator. For example, you can hear the 9th Symphony on the
radio, but the radio didn’t create the 9th Symphony. It was Beethoven.
The radio is just a tool, and so is the brain. We are more than our brain.

I
want people to realize that we are meant to be the masters of our brain, not
its servants. I am encouraging the
readers to take responsibility for their thoughts and challenge their fears.
Excuses and procrastination are the way we often disguise fear and all fears
come from the brain. Past experiences programmed it to think we’re not good enough,
talented enough, brave enough, or strong enough. Just not enough.

Hrithik Roshan, an Indian actor and remarkable
human being, said. "All fear is 99% assumption-based. In fact, almost ALL
worries in life would disappear if we just stop assuming things.” The dreadful
but familiar *what if…?*

Think
about it and you’ll see this is a great truth. I’ve just read that when we
assume that reality is a given, what we’re really accepting isn’t the world
“out there” but our own limitations “in here”. In other words, limitations
exist because our brain is programmed to accept them. We must stop worrying
about all the possible things that can go wrong, or who’s to blame. It’s more
effective and rewarding to focus on our power to make things right. So I stand
by my word. Take responsibility and challenge your brain.

Aye, methinks
Father Dragon speaks with forked tongue still. Even I am beginning to feel
raucous emotions. Let the commenters decide if he be innocent or guilty.